


return the smart phone back to the big size

by jonphaedrus



Category: Monster Factory - Polygon (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: the final pam vs. a smart phone. many will enter. the final pam will always win.





	return the smart phone back to the big size

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godtiermeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/gifts).



> happy yuletide, godtiermeme!!
> 
> i....love the concept of the final pam having to fight a smart phone and losing. the only thing she can lose to is something so fragile that she must keep it alive. like a baby. or a smart phone.
> 
> although in all fairness, smart phones are a lot MORE fragile than babies.....

_Attempt #1_

The Final Pam looked at the smart phone where it lay on the counter. She stared at it, narrowed her eyes. Focused. She was going to pick it up. She was focused on picking it up. It would be in her hand.

Her glare became too powerful.

The smart phone exploded in a tiny puff of plastic-scented smoke, fumes, and crushed glass.

 

 

_Attempt #2_  

The Final Pam set her hand on top of the smart phone on the counter and pressed down to pick it up. She shoved her hand straight through the little tablet, shattering and smashing it instantaneously into glass dust and shards of computer chips smaller than the naked eye could see. It just looked like glitter all over the counter.

“Hmm,” said The Final Pam.

She needed a new plan.

 

 

_Attempt #5_  

Metal Husband slowly lowered the smart phone into The Final Pam’s outstretched and waiting hands. She did not move, for fear of flinging it out through the side of the house like she had the last time. She remained perfectly still until it landed, completely flat, on her palms.

And spontaneously combusted.

 

 

_Attempt #7_  

Metal Husband held the phone out flat in front of her so that The Final Pam could clearly see the screen. She reached forward carefully, her left hand holding her right hand by the wrist to keep it balanced and not-shaking, since even the slightest tremor could throw her hand into the phone and pulverize it. She reached forward. She pressed the very, _very_ tip of her finger against the screen.

Nothing happened.

The button clicked.

The Final Pam grinned a triumphant smile, and then the smart phone screen caved in around the tip of her finger like she’d punched a crater in it.

 

 

_Attempt #12_

In triumph, the Final Pam picked up the smart phone and held it cradled in her palm with all the care and grace that one would hold a live and primed nuclear weapon. She had to be careful—her all-consuming power was too much for the fragile tangles of thin metal, glass, and wires that made up the smart phone. A single hasty move could destroy the thing like the softest of human skulls. She held it at arm’s length, not sure if the sheer power of her aura would be enough to pressure-cook the internal components of the phone and lead to it shorting from the inside out. Better be safe.

Very carefully, being sure to only touch it with the minimum of her skin lest the acidity of her sweat melt straight through the glass screen, The Final Pam opened the _contacts_ menu. She selected _create new contact_ and then, one number at a time, only barely easing her finger down onto the phone, just enough to select a number, she input Metal Husband’s phone number.

It succeeded. The contact went through. The Final Pam grinned in triumph.

And then the phone screen went quietly black, and wouldn’t turn on again.

The Final Pam had to go out and crush an entire forest into beautiful, perfectly-cubed firewood, after that. She went to each tree and individually smashed it between her hands, letting off steam, and then roped up neat little corded log packages, which she took around to everyone she knew. She had a great many logs to find homes for. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

She had a lot of steam.

 

 

_Attempt #18_  

A pressure redistributing glove, Metal Husband, two witnesses holding plexiglass screens between her hand and the phone, and it still warped itself into a pretzel.

“I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” said one witness, staring in horror back at the ruined remains of the phone. It honestly really looked nothing at all like a phone any more. Now it just looked like a smoking, husk-like corpse that embodied less a smart phone and more That Which Was Once A Smart Phone But Was Since Punished For Its Hubris.

The Final Pam agreed.

She needed _a new plan_.

 

 

_Attempt #24_

They tried a screen cover of the normal sort, but the plastic melted when it came within the sphere of her body heat, shriveling up with a little puff of smoke and the scent of singed, tarred plastic filling her nostrils.

And the phone still exploded anyway, so it was a moot point.

 

 

_Attempt #25_

She tried a stylus, but it exploded in her superpowered grip, the very interaction of the thin plastic body with her hand too much for its existence, and it crumbled into dust on her palm and the screen of the newest smart phone, which—

 

 

_Attempt #26_

Lasted all of one more attempt, this time by using the voice recognition software. Unfortunately for the phone, The Final Pam’s voice’s colossal volume and power not only blew out the mic and the speakers, it also flattened the phone as thin as a sheet of paper and equally as useless to the task of being smart _or_ a phone. The Final Pam had no use for paper. That could not show her as many photos as she needed of her lovely, powerful, perfect family.

 

 

_Attempt #33_

The Otterbox™ was a one of a kind model, rigged surrounded by metal on all sides, a double-bulletproof glass screen, with extra strength plastic and rubber melded with teflon and gore-tex. It could probably withstand a nuclear holocaust (again) or, at the very least, could withstand being dropped out of a pocket three feet above concrete pavement and landing on the top corner bumper just on the very edge of the glass without immediately shattering all the way down to the LCD.

The Final Pam was very pleased with this creation. It allowed her to input contact details, collect numerous photos of cats in Neko Atsume (each one painstakingly nicknamed according to appearance, preferred item, nature, and relation to people in her life). It was chock full of photos of her numerous, sometimes eccentric, children. Even some of Metal Husband.

It survived everything. It was very, very resilient, was her one of a kind ultimate no-destruction case. It was more hardened than a nuclear bunker, more precious than diamonds. It was the only inanimate object to ever resist the powerful clench and curl of her impressive, perfectly-manicured, fist. Not just once, but numerous times.

And then it caught on her sleeve one day and fell into the open water of a toilet bowl.

The Final Pam spent many hours staring at the smart phone after it dried out on a bed of rice. She tried every method she could to reboot it, everything suggested to her by anybody who thought that they were suddenly an expert on how to dry out and reboot a smart phone. Which none of them were, but they were more experts than she was.

When it came time to admit that it was a lost cause and all of her data on it was gone, The Final Pam was forced to admit, for the first time in her life, a form of defeat. Perhaps smart phones were just to fragile. Breakable. _Normal_ for her. There was no final smart phone. They were a dying, helpless breed of mindless glass slaves.

No, no. She needed something stronger. More beautiful, rugged, powerful. As deadly and dangerous as she was. That she could _kill_ someone with. That could _batter_ its enemies remorselessly until they cowed before its all-powerful might.

 

 

_Attempt #34_  

The Final Pam invested in a [Toughbook](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toughbook). 


End file.
